It was the morning following the great storm, a perfect day of cloudless sunshine, and the Padre and Buck were on their way from the fur fort to the camp. Their mission was to learn the decision of its inhabitants as to their abandonment of the valley; and in the Padre's pocket was a large amount of money for distribution.
The elder man's spirits were quietly buoyant. Nor did there seem to be much reason why they should be. But the Padre's moods, even to his friends, were difficult to account for. Buck, on the contrary, seemed lost in a reverie which held him closely, and even tended to make his manner brusque.
But his friend, in the midst of his own cheerful feelings, would not allow this to disturb him. Besides, he was a far shrewder man than his simple manner suggested.
"It's well to be doing, lad," he said, after some considerable silence. "Makes you feel good. Makes you feel life's worth a bigger price than we mostly set it at."
His quiet eyes took the other in in a quick, sidelong glance. He saw that Buck was steadily, but unseeingly, contemplating the black slopes of Devil's Hill, which now lay directly ahead.
"Guess you aren't feeling so good, boy?" he went on after a moment's thoughtful pause.
The direct challenge brought a slow smile to Buck's face, and he answered with surprising energy-"Good? Why, I'm feelin' that good I don't guess even--even Beasley could rile me this mornin'."
The Padre nodded with a responsive smile.
"And Beasley can generally manage to rile you."
"Yes, he's got that way, surely," laughed Buck frankly. "Y' see he's--he's pretty mean."
"I s'pose he is," admitted the other. Then he turned his snow-white head and glanced down at the lean flanks of Cæsar as the horse walked easily beside his mare.
"And that boy, Kid, was out in all that storm on your Cæsar," he went on, changing the subject quickly from the man whom he knew bore him an absurd animosity. "A pretty great horse, Cæsar. He's looking none the worse for fetching that whisky either. Guess the boys'll be getting over their drunk by now. And it's probably done 'em a heap of good. You did right to encourage 'em. Maybe there's folks would think differently. But then they don't just understand, eh?"
"No."
Buck had once more returned to his reverie, and the Padre smiled. He thought he understood. He had listened overnight to a full account of the arrival of the new owner of their farm, and had gleaned some details of her attractiveness and youth. He knew well enough how surely the isolated mountain life Buck lived must have left him open to strong impressions.